


In A Blink

by bronwe_calen



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Battle of Five Armies - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Battle of Five Armies Fix-It, Feels, Gen, I didn't kill anybody., sorta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-05
Updated: 2016-02-05
Packaged: 2018-05-18 07:28:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5905837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bronwe_calen/pseuds/bronwe_calen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All the races of Middle Earth have different lifespans and some are better at keeping secrets than others.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In A Blink

**Author's Note:**

> Cross posted on FF (Yes, I'm Flamewhisper there). 
> 
>  
> 
> I do not own the Hobbit, it belongs to the masterful mind of JRR Tolkien. I just play in his sandbox. 
> 
>  
> 
> Hobbit Kink Prompt: http://Hobbit-kink.livejournal.com/13429.html?thread=24342389#t24342389

A sharp pain flitted across his back, causing the Hobbit’s breath to catch. He dropped his pack and dropped to sit on his bed. Bilbo took a deep breathe and waited for the pain to recede. He had been rechecking his bag and trying to work up the courage to tell the rest of the company he needed to return to the Shire. He had been preparing to leave since spring had returned, he had tarried in Erebor for too long. However, the thought of leaving hurt and he had delayed, winter was too dangerous, he was recovering from a slight illness in the spring and now summer had crept up on him. The Company had become his friends and family. He took another breath and the pain returned to the dull throb that had started half way through the winter. Bilbo allowed his thoughts to drift. 

While he loved his Dwarven friends greatly, the quest to help them reclaim their home had stolen much from Bilbo. He gained self-confidence and courage, even though he had lost the last of the naivety that was common to all Hobbits and his wonder of the world. There was one thing he lost that he regretted the most and that was time. Few could even begin to understand the importance of time to Hobbits. It was widely believed  that the smaller race was a very open people. The Elves, Men and Dwarves who passed their way accepted the Hobbits at face value, rarely taking time to learn more. It was this disinterest, that allowed the Hobbits to develop the reputation of being a kind race, who valued of good food and a good time. The truth, however, was that they guarded many secrets about their peoples, but none more viciously than that of a Hobbit’s lifespan. Unlike like the big people, who marked their age in years or even centuries if you talked to the elves, Hobbits marked their lives in months. 

Months. The average Hobbit lived 110 months, which equated to just over nine years. Based on conversation with the few Men who entered the Shire, one month for a Hobbit was about the same as one year in the life of a man. Twelve months had passed since Bilbo raced after thirteen Dwarves and one Wizard and he was beginning to feel the effects of age setting in. While it pained him to think about leaving Erebor, but he needed to returned to his home, to the Shire.

A knock at the door disrupted his internal musing. He knocked his pack to the side, started to stand, but thought better of it. “Come in,” he called, feeling bad about not greeting his visitors at the door. 

The door was flung open as Fili and Kili bounded in, the picture of barely contained energy. “Come on, Mr. Boggins,” Kili’s voice rang out, as he made his way to the once burglar. “It’s time for the company dinner to mark a year since we set out on our journey.” The young dwarf had grown accustom to helping Bilbo over the winter, assuming his Hobbit friend had trouble with the colder temperature in the mountain.

A smile flitted across Bilbo’s face, glad that the boys brush with death had not killed their spirits. “Very well,” he said, accepting the archer's hand and hiding a grimace as he stood from the bed. His back and hips protested the movement, age was not being kind to him. “Let me get my jacket. It is still quite drafty in these halls, even given the return of the sun and the warmer weather outside.” He made his way to his little desk and picked up the fur lined jacket that had been made for him, not long after the winter that kept him in Erebor began. 

His movements were slower than normal and there was an air of caution about him that even Fili and Kili could notice. There was a worry of the illness the Hobbit had battled recently, returning.

“Is everything okay, Mr. Bilbo,” Fili asked, speaking for the first time. His voice was filled with concern for the small creature who had become a fast and steady friend. 

“Never you worry, Fili,” Bilbo replied smiling and turning. “I am perfectly fine for a Hobbit of my age.” He pulled on the heavy coat and walked over to the two brothers. “Shall we go? I imagine that the others are having a hard time keeping Bombur away from the food and Bofur the drink.” 

“Yes, we should hurry,” Kili offered, darting over to wrap an arm around Bilbo’s shoulders and drag him out of the room. The Hobbit shot the blonde Dwarf a look, that pleaded for help, but Fili just laughed and followed the two out the door pulling it closed behind him. 

Given the increased metabolism of Hobbits and Bilbo fondness of cooking, he had a room closest to the kitchen in the section of Erebor that had become the home of the company. Therefore it was a quick walk to the dining room and, soon the trio could hear the raucous noise of the group. Cheers went up as the last three found seats at the table and the meal could properly begin. 

As with most meals, it was a fun and lively event as they toasted each other, their deeds and just made merry, glad to all be alive. As they started on desert, talk turned from the past to present and then to the future. They discussed the plans they all had, dreams they wanted to achieve. Slowly, really without meaning to, Bilbo grew quiet and withdrew from the conversation. 

There was a lapse in the conversation, before Ori's voice rang out, drawing attention to the smallest member of the company. “What about you Bilbo, what are your plans for the future?”

Try as he might Bilbo could not hide what ended up being a very noticeable cringe. The dwarves had been talking in years or decades for their futures and the youngest centuries. When Bilbo thought of his future it was in months, around thirty if he was lucky. Thirty months, a mere two and a half years, if… if he was lucky. Of those months, at least another four would be tired up in his return trip to the Shire, yes he would be a very old Hobbit before he saw his smial again. 

“Bilbo?” It was Fili, who spoke this time, as the dwarf reached out to touch his shoulder. Bilbo realized that he had not answered and now all eyes were on him. He looked up at the Durin heir, and knew from the growing concern in Fili’s eyes that the pain in his own was not as disguised as he wished. 

“Soon, I will need to return to the Shire,” Bilbo offered, not giving Fili the chance to speak again. “There is much that requires my attention,” his eyes flitted across the rest of the company and he sent up a silent plea they would not press for more information, “and I have been away for too long.” 

“You will come back afterward, right, Mr. Boggins.” It was Kili who spoke, voice still bright, not having picked up on the swiftly changing atmosphere. 

“No, Kili. I won’t.” The outcry from the dwarves was instantaneous. There was a jumble of thirteen voices all begging him to reconsider, to stay longer, to never leave. Finally, Bilbo held up his hand and everything quieted. “Please don’t misunderstand me. I truly wish I could stay longer, truly. However, it is imperative, I return to the Shire. If I could, I would come back after my business is settled, but it is very likely I will not be able to make the return journey.”

“Why, Master Burglar?” It was the gruff tones of the dwarf king. Bilbo turned and met the blue eyes of the dwarf king. Bilbo knew he could lie, but did not want to deceive his friends, his family or to give them false hope. 

“What I am going to tell you is a much guarded secret of Hobbits. When we started this journey, I told you I was 67 and at the time that was very much true. There is a reason Hobbits spend so much time celebrating, it’s because time is short, so very short.” He paused taking a deep breath. “At the start of the journey, I was 67, but it was not years. Hobbits count their ages in months. As near as we have been able to figure out, from brief encounters with men, is that every month a Hobbit lives, is the equivalent to one year a Man lives.”

There was a gasp from Balin, who had worked with enough men to know, men aged quickly compared to dwarves. He tried to remember the exact numbers, but they were fleeting and hard to grasp. 

“I don’t know men,” Bofur spoke out. “Do you know what it is like in dwarf years?” He sounded very confused. 

“I am not positive,” Bilbo began, “but based on conversations, I figured that one Hobbit month is about the same as two and half years to a dwarf. The twelve months I have spent with all of you, is roughly equivalent to thirty years of your own lives.” 

The silence was deafening. Nobody spoke as Bilbo’s words trickled through their minds. Suddenly, Bilbo finds himself caught up in strong arms as he is pulled into a shuddering body. “No, Mr. Boggins,” the pet name identifying the speaker who was hugging him so tightly. “You can’t leave us, not so soon.” The sorrow was evident in his voice. Bilbo reached up and ran his hands through the hair of one of the dwarves he had to come to care so greatly for. 

“Kili,” he began, his voice barely a whisper, but it carried in the silent room. “My life has been full. I have done things no Hobbit ever has. I have talked with Elves, adventured with Dwarves, battled long side men and matched wits with a dragon. I have been to Rivendell and over the Misty Mountains. I have flown on eagles wings and stolen Dwarves from an Elf king. I have seen great deeds, horrible battles and nearly lost dear friends. Do not weep for me, for I hold not sorrow for my state.” By now Kili had pulled away and was looking at Bilbo with tear filled eyes. 

“While the road has been hard and has taken much time, but I will never regret chasing after 13 dwarves and a wizard one year ago.” He turned to the rest of the company. “You are all very dear friends and I will miss you, but my place now is with my people and I must return to them. Much is required of Hobbits my age and I cannot turn my back on my duties much longer.”

The Hobbit was not surprised when Kili pulled him back into a hug. Nor was he surprised when he heard chair move and felt another set of arms wrap around him. A blonde braid drifted into his field of view and confirmed, that Fili had joined the hug. 

“Master Hobbit,” a voice called and the trio pulled away, as Bilbo turned his attention to the one who had spoken. 

“Yes, Balin.” 

“If your life is so short, why would you risk it to help us? Why not stay in the Shire?”

A sad smile crossed Bilbo’s face. “Because, I realized that morning. I had a home. My people were safe. You did not and I could not help but think, what it would be like to have the Shire taken from me and my kin. There was a time when Hobbits were forced to wander, with no real place to call home. Even though it is in a time long past, it is still etched into the very souls of all Hobbits, making our desire for home and hearth all the greater. I found that I had to help you in any way that I could. Everybody deserves a home.”

“Then we will do what we can to get you back to yours, Master Hobbit,” Thorin said. “It is the least we can do to someone we owe our very lives too.” There were quick agreements from the rest of the company. 

The Hobbit shook his head. “I cannot ask this of you. Your places are with your people and there is still much you need to do here to prepare for the coming caravans. Gandalf is to return in within a month. We have made arrangements to travel together to the Shire.”

There were sounds of disagreements and it took quite a few minutes to get them all quieted down. Surprisingly enough it was Dori who offered a solution. 

“A few of us need to travel to the Ered Luin and to do so, we must pass near the Shire. We shall escort you home, Master Baggins.” 

Bilbo found he could not persuade the dwarves otherwise. It was determined that in two days time, Fili, Kili, Gloin, Nori, Ori, Bofur, and Dwalin would set out with Bilbo and Gandalf for the Shire and then the dwarves would press on to the Blue Mountains. Fili and Kili claimed they wanted to go see their mother and travel back with her, although Bilbo knew the two youngest were still having trouble coming to terms with all they had learned. Gloin, of course, was going to help his wife and son with the move. Nori, well Bilbo never really determined the full reason for his attendance although he thought it had something to do with his younger brother and a few threats from Dori. Ori was completely honest and said he wanted Bilbo’s help in writing the tale of their quest and refused to be left behind. Bofur said he wanted more time with his Hobbit and that was the end of it. Dwalin was going along as security both for the princes and then their mother, Lady Dis on the return journey. 

The next days were tear filled as Bilbo said goodbye to all those who were staying at the mountain and in the a blink of an eye, they were setting out for the Shire on a crisp spring morning. 


End file.
